Speaking from one reader to another, let me say this: without books, without stories, without literature the world would not be … a very nice place to live. Books are more than pages trapped between covers, more than ink printed on paper, more than thoughts and ideas expressed in writing.
A book can be so many things.
It can be a thing of comfort, like a snuggly blanket. It can be a fellow traveller on the road, always ready to keep you company. It can be a provocateur, inspiring you to do things you would not normally do. It can be an indulgence, when slanting rain is dancing against the windowsill and you can’t imagine getting out of the Comfortable Corner of the couch. It can be a carrier of dreams and a harbinger of nightmares.
It can be a time machine, a looking glass or a mirror.
Books, literature, stories. This is going to be a journal about reading and writing. That is the ambition, at least. I hope to trap my thoughts here, capture some ideas and perhaps learn one or two things along the way.